Max's Turn!
by Knottaclue
Summary: A little TerryMax adventure.
1. Default Chapter

_Author's note: This could be considered a prequel of Stumbling (my other story which I'm still completely blocked on). The title gives you a good idea what this story's about. It's ninety-five percent finished so it won't be forever between updates!_  
  
**Max's Turn!  
**  
Like all human-beings, Maxine Gibson was unique. She could be defined with words, but it would take a lot of them. Among many other things she was a daughter, a sister, a friend, a citizen of Gotham, a college student and a free-spirit with the intelligence and capabilities to accomplish any goal she decided to set for herself.   
  
She had succeeded at one particular goal that very few others could claim. She had become Batman's Back-up. Not a real catchy title, but it's not like she could put it on her resume or go around telling everyone about it. It had taken every bit of courage, persistence, smarts and downright conniving she possessed to get the job. Especially since the position was already filled by one of the most innately powerful men she had ever met.   
  
Bruce Wayne. She had never known anyone so scary and at the same time, so fascinating.   
  
When she had found out Terry was Batman, she was surprised by how much she wanted to be involved in his secret. It had become an obsession. Terry had caved in to her desire fairly easy, allowing her to help him from a distance on certain crimes. Bruce was the other extreme. He wanted her to have absolutely no part in the life of Batman and reprimanded Terry whenever she became involved.   
  
A turning point in Bruce's attitude towards her came early in Terry's career as Batman. Shriek, one of Gotham's more vindictive bad guys had managed to trap Batman under tons of concrete. Unable to locate or communicate with his protégé from the batcave, Bruce went looking for him. Unwelcome, Max joined in the search. Turns out, in the events that followed, she was helpful and the old man subtly acknowledged the fact.   
  
That didn't gain her access to the cave or into Bruce's good graces (not that he had any that weren't just show for the public). Nope. It couldn't happen so easily. It was a long agonizing time after that before she saw the batcave for the first time. But it was worth the wait and effort. That moment would always remain one of her most thrilling and vivid memories.  
  
Unfortunately, working behind the scenes to aid Batman had not been her initial goal. It had been her strong desire to work alongside him. To wear her own artfully designed and powered suit and soar over the towering cityscape. To be his partner in the adventure of personally subduing the elements in Gotham's criminal world. To feel the satisfaction of kicking someone's butt herself instead of just watching Terry do it.  
  
Thus far, neither man was willing to help her in that area. So, secretly, she had taken steps in that direction on her own. They included private martial arts lessons for the last six months. Two days ago, feeling confident in her growing abilities and from the praise of her instructors, she had shown Terry some of her moves.   
  
Ignoring his skeptical amusement, which he made no effort to hide, she asked him to work through some moves with her. He complied reluctantly. Max knew he wasn't trying very hard because her hits connected easily. She smiled wicked delight at the surprised look on his face as he picked himself up from the floor.   
  
Her smile had faded quickly when they met again and he, with apparent little effort, blocked her every move and had her on the ground so fast she wasn't sure how he had done it.  
  
He stood over her grinning smugly and offered a hand, "Sorry Max. Just didn't want you getting any funny ideas about thinking you were ready to become Batman's sidekick."  
  
Subduing disappointment and anger she had smiled and let him pull her up then used that moment to flow into another trained movement. Once again she was on her back staring up at him and wondering how she got there.   
  
Okay. So maybe she wasn't ready yet. That didn't mean she was going to stop trying.  
  



	2. Setting it up

  
  
The Mayor's annual 'Pomp and Circumstance Ball'. The Governor and a bunch of city bigwigs and celebrities are invited. Commissioner Barbara's husband is unable to attend with her. She will accompany Bruce who insists the invited but unwilling Terry also attend. He refuses unless Max goes along as his date. Since his break-up with Dana he has repeatedly hinted to Max that their relationship could become more. She corrected him once, with crystal clarity, about how hell would freeze over before something like that would happen. Any further hinting on his part was met by her indifference.  
  
Not willing to give up the idea, Terry thinks this kind of festive atmosphere might be enough to tip the scales of their friendship into something more 'hands-on'. Max, of course, refuses the invitation. When Terry tries harder to persuade her she brushes him off easily and declares there were plenty of other women for him to choose from whom were more qualified and much more willing to accompany him to such a notable event.   
  
Terry hid his disappointment at her continued success at keeping him at a distance by consoling himself with the original fact that he didn't want to go anyway. Boring waste of time. He'd rather be patrolling. He kept his promise to Bruce and proclaimed with a shrug that he was not going to the shindig without Max.   
  
"Choose another date." Bruce ordered bluntly, preoccupied with reading information he had called up on the batcave's computer. "It's important you attend Terry."  
  
"Why?" Terry stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth, garbling words around the obstruction. "You're going to be there. Isn't the infamous Bruce Wayne more than enough representation for the company?"  
  
Bruce grinned wryly, gaze still focused on his work, "He's no where near as attractive as the media darling from WayneTech that the public can't get enough of. The proceeds are going to aid the homeless and the Ball can use any extra publicity it can get. "  
  
Terry grimaced and rolled his eyes at the thought of someone getting excited and wanting to donate because they saw his image somewhere. "Some people need to get a life," he muttered. "How did you stomach that part for as long as you did?"  
  
"I considered it a necessary evil to ensure the success of other aspects of my life at the time. And it wasn't all bad."  
  
"Oh yeah?" The subtle inflection in Bruce's voice got Terry's imagination revving. The elder rarely revealed any non-Batman type memories, but when he did they were worth hearing. "Care to enlighten me?"  
  
"No."  
  
Terry smiled despite the letdown, "Go ahead and keep your secrets. I'm still not going without Max."  
  
Bruce paused in irritation and swiveled his chair to face the young man. "Why does it have to be Max?"   
  
"Well…because." Because I hate these stupid social obligation things and hinging it on Max going is a sure out. "Because she's good company. Unlike other women, when she talks I usually understand what she's saying."  
  
"Good conversation is that important to you?"  
  
"Well…yeah, if I've got to spend more than an hour with them."  
  
An arched silver brow and knowing look made Terry squirm and utter defensively, "What?"  
  
Bruce gave his head a resigned shake. It was amusing observing the relationship between his two protégés, but sometimes it could get tedious. "I'll talk to her."  
  
"You will?"  
  
Bruce repressed a laugh at sight of Terry's childish look of surprise. It was nice to know that the rigors of Batman hadn't hardened the young man too deeply yet if such a simple thing could excite him.   
  
"Yes. Now suit up. You've got a long night ahead of you."  
  
"Right," Terry replied with a brisk nod and hurried off to change. Bruce smiled when he caught sight of the little jig Terry performed as he disappeared behind the changing partition.

* * *

Max was very reluctant to bow to Bruce's strong suggestions about why she should accompany Terry. He had to resort to bribery to get her to agree. He dangled the knowledge of some intriguing computer tricks that would be divulged to her after the Ball was over--if--she went.   
  
Like a deprived chocoholic seeing that tiny chunk of half melted milk chocolate just out of her reach, Max licked her lips and blurted out, "Okay! I'll do it you--you manipulative octogenarian!"  
  
"Hey." Bruce droned. "Watch the language young lady." 


	3. Moving it along

  
  
"You know I hate you, right?" Max jerked her hand angrily away from Terry's arm. They had just finished running the media gamut leading into the Governor's mansion and she was still half-blinded from the camera flashes. Terry had pulled her over to an unoccupied corner of the slowly filling ballroom.   
  
"Yeah," he muttered. "I think you might have mentioned it a few dozen times on the way here."   
  
"So tell me again why you insisted I had to come?"   
  
The intensity of her glare had him worried that laser bolts might actually shoot out of her eyes. He was beginning to think this had been the biggest mistake he had ever made in his life. He had experienced Max this angry before, but realized it had never been directed to such a degree at him. To say he was feeling uncomfortable at the moment was like agreeing that Mad Stan was a rational human being. This--was the woman he wanted to get to know better?   
  
Suck it up McGinnis. You wanted this so you better make the best of it. He forced an ingratiating grin.   
  
"Because I thought it would be nice to spend time together outside of the 'work' environment for a change. Isn't that what friends do?"  
  
"Friends don't subject their friends to torture. Do you have any idea what I had to go through to get ready for this thing? And I'm not talking about time, which you know I have absolutely none to spare."  
  
"Well, whatever it took, it was worth it. You look--" he shook his head in awe, blue eyes sparkling admiration. "Gorgeous."  
  
Max lowered her head, suddenly embarrassed by his attention. She ran nervous hands down the silken folds of her gown. Much of her anger was triggered by a feeling of inadequacy. The women Terry was usually seen with had more beauty and sex-appeal in their little fingers than she had in her entire body. Dana would have fit right in here. She and Terry had always looked good together. Intellect was where she, Max the brainy one, shined and felt most at ease displaying.  
  
The evening moves on. Bruce and Barbara spend the time talking to each other and mingling, as required, with noteworthy others. Terry and Max slowly warm to the situation they are in and actually manage to have a good time. After a rousing bout of dancing they stumble breathless and laughing outside for fresh air.  
  
A single couple, latched arm to arm and oblivious of anything but themselves, strolled back inside just as Max and Terry were coming out onto the lighted garden terrace. They found themselves alone in the elaborate display of foliage, flowers and rock-paved pathways.   
  
Hearing the steady trickle of falling water drew Max to a small fountain nestled amongst a profusion of ferns and ornamental grasses. Terry followed, his leisurely gaze noting how the ground-mounted lamps played a lacy pattern of light through the gently swaying flora.   
  
Max perched on the brick edge of a knee high pond and dangled one hand through the shiny water. Sedately swimming goldfish darted away from her actions. She giggled and looked up at Terry who responded with a slow smile and continued to watch as she then ran her hands through the feathery fronds of the greenery surrounding her. Again she cast a jubilant expression in his direction.   
  
"They're so delicate. And they tickle."  
  
Abruptly she jumped to her feet, threw up her arms and swirled in delight, the delicate material of her ankle-length skirt billowing outward. Terry's sight was instinctively drawn to her long shapely legs.   
  
"Oh Terry. Look at all of this. Isn't it beautiful?"  
  
"They sure are." he murmured to himself with a happy grin.  
  
"And can you smell those flowers? Which ones are giving off that scent?"   
  
He chuckled softly as she sniffed the air, following a scent trail to find the answer. He'd never seen her act so girlish. Maybe that glass of champagne she had sipped from earlier was the reason. She wasn't fond of alcohol, so when she did imbibe it easily affected her  
  
He felt more than heard an abnormal rustle from the nearby hedges. Gaze turning sharp in that direction revealed nothing to his unaided eyes. If he'd had the suit on it would have given him detailed answers to his suspicions.   
  
Let it go McGinnis. You're playing the non-Batman role tonight. This is your big chance with Max. Don't blow it. Probably just a stray dog or cat.  
  
Shrugging his uneasiness away, Terry riveted full attention back to Max. The soft garden lights were casting a warm glow across the smooth, dark skin of her face and drawing out the radiant quality of her eyes.   
  
She stretched up to a trio of flowered hanging baskets, inhaling their aroma while her hips swayed unconsciously with the rhythm of the music drifting through the doors. Terry clamped down on a sudden urge to move behind her, place his hands firmly around her waist and start swaying with her. Taking a shuddering breath, he turned away from the sight. Following through on that impulse might result in his getting a black eye or something much worse. Though he would never admit it to her, sparring with her the last few weeks had convinced him she could be a formidable threat if her approach could be more consistent and aggressive. She only did her best when he could goad her into anger.  
  
Wiping sweat from his clammy hands onto his pant legs, Terry distracted himself by concentrating on the scenery. An unnatural flicker of movement in the greenery, ahead and to the right, caught his eye. His vision narrowed in on the area.  
  
There was no doubt this time. The shadows in the shrubbery were moving. A lot of shadows. All his instincts rumbled danger. Hoping for time and wanting to warn her, Terry casually turned and stepped back towards Max. He felt the silken material of her dress as his hands pressed around the firm curve of her waist With gentle persistence he turned her to face him. She gasped in surprise and began to pull away, but he gathered her even closer. Cheek to cheek he murmured to his now fuming 'back-up'.  
  
"We're in trouble Max. Work with me here."  
  
She grunted trying to break out of his strong embrace. "You're the only one who's going to be troubled if you don't release me right now."  
  
"Hey--just listen for a second."  
  
"What are--"  
  
"Look. Over to your right. Behind the hedges. Possible intruders."  
  
Finally noting his intense tone, Max relaxed and subtly shifted her eyes to look. Fighting distraction as Terry started to nuzzle her ear she saw what he was worried about. Two hooded figures were peering out from between a gap in the hedges, either not aware how the lights were exposing them or not caring.   
  
"Pretend we're making out. It might buy us some time."   
  
Terry caressed her cheek with soft kisses, now bringing his hands into the act to mold and press against the contours of her back. Despite the looming danger, Max found it difficult not to react to his 'pretending'.   
  
Slightly breathless she whispered, "What should we do?"  
  
"Kiss me."  
  
"What?" She managed a shaky gasp at the audacity of his suggestion.  
  
"Act like you're enjoying this. We might be entertaining enough to hold them off for awhile."  
  
"Oh." All his touching was making it hard for her to focus on his words, much less think clearly. "I get it. Just… until we figure out what to do."  
  
"Right." Whoa! She was actually falling for this and there was no way he could follow through. Those shadowed figures were starting to emerge from hiding. Maybe if he hurried her… "Kiss me."  
  
He pulled his head back, presenting her with an easy target. Max hesitated. Did she really want to do this? It's just an act girl! Buying time remember? Lips parting, she moved forward.  
  
Impatient because the moment was slipping away, Terry met her halfway and made the most of his opportunity. The feel of her full lips against his, pliable and moist, was better than he imagined. He almost moaned in frustration as peripheral vision noted the hostiles moving closer. With supreme effort he broke off the kiss and nuzzled her ear again to whisper.  
  
"You might get a chance to use your training tonight. I've seen three of them, but there might be more. Don't let them grab you. I'll hold them off while you get inside and warn the others."  
  
Numbed by the strange sensations coursing through her, Max drunkenly nuzzled his ear in return to ask, "What do you think they want?"  
  
"Don't know, but we're gonna find out cause here they come. You ready?"   
  
Her breathless 'yes' exhaled into his ear. He stifled a sharp breath of his own when her body tensed and slid against his in preparation to respond to his urgent instructions. "Ah…okay." He fought conflicting primal urges and forced himself into combat mode. "Um… Break to your left on three. One. Two. Three!"  
  
They pivoted away from each other. Max towards the terrace entrance, Terry towards the approaching hooded figures.  
  
Her path blocked by a menacing form, Maxine unconsciously dropped into the defensive stance she had been taught. She was glad the man's face was covered. It kept her concentration on his movements and not distracted by what the features of a possible killer looked like.   
  
In what seemed like only seconds, her opponent was lying motionless on the ground with her standing over him. She tempered the thrill of finally using her new abilities for a real purpose by rightfully figuring the guy hadn't expected her to be a threat. A sign that whoever these guys were, they weren't well trained. That still didn't mean she would be as lucky next time. Despite the dire situation, the triumphant feeling bursting inside had her crowing out loud, "Not bad for someone wearing high heels."  
  
Her dress wrapped around her legs as she whirled to race for the doors and finish her assigned task, but again she was halted. All cheer disappeared at sight of Terry crouched between two downed, black-clad intruders and another standing over him with an already bloody knife poised to descend.  
  
Without much conscious thought, Max removed one of her dangerously spiked heels and pitched it at Terry's attacker. The shoe landed a square hit on the hooded figure's head, distracting him. Terry surged up from his crouch to shoulder a weighted blow into the guy. He plowed them both through the gardens until a heavy metal trellis finally brought them to a slamming halt. They poised there for a few seconds before Terry staggered back and the other slid limply to the ground.  
  
Maxine saw Terry bend forward, one hand reaching out to clutch the damaged trellis for support. His other hand pressed against his side where bright red blood oozed between fingers and darkened his white dress shirt  
  
.  
  
"Damn," she hissed in shock. She shook herself and rushed towards him, pausing to grab her stray shoe and slide it onto her foot. Quickly unclasping the decorative shawl from around her shoulders, she began to fold it. By the time she was beside him it was shaped into a thick pad.  
  
"Here," she muttered pushing his hand away to slide the pad in place. Firmly, she pressed it over the wound.   
  
Terry sucked in a ragged gasp, trellis rattling as he sagged against it. She reached up a free arm to steady him, noting his pained face had lost all color.   
  
"Sorry Terr," she said worriedly. "But we've got to stop the bleeding."  
  
"Do you have to kill the patient to do it?" He ground out between gritted teeth, "Geez Max…ease up."  
  
"Not until--"  
  
A piercing scream, coming from inside the mansion, filled the air. Their heads snapped towards the terrace doors, but they were unable to see inside because of their sharp, angled viewpoint. Silence followed and seconds later a crescendo of verbal outrage and panic rolled out into the night.  
  
Terry pushed away from the trellis, "Bind it up with something. I've got to go."  
  
"You're not thinking of playing hero in this condition?"  
  
"It's not as bad as it looks," he replied while hastily loosening the knotted tie at his throat. "Just a flesh wound."  
  
She snorted in resigned amusement. His guts could be hanging out and he'd call it a flesh wound. Trying to reason with him wouldn't work. This type of scenario had been played out too often in the past and every time he did it his way. As long as his mind controlled his body he would keep going. Still, she felt duty bound to try and stop him.  
  
"You'll bleed to death before you even get the suit on." Max continued to protest though she helped him loop the tie around his waist to bind the pad in place.   
  
"Not if you get it tight enou--aarrgh!" Again the trellis shook as his weight settled against it.  
  
"How's that?" Max asked sweetly as she finished cinching the pad in place with a little more force than was perhaps necessary. This might be the least he'd be hurting before he was done being the hero tonight.   
  
He managed to send her an evil look while trying not to writhe from the pain. "Sadist," he muttered between hitching breaths.  
  
"Probably," she agreed evenly, her experienced gaze registering the status of his condition. Color was already returning to his face. He'd be all right. She had seen him function with a lot worse. "Comes with the territory. How are you going to get to the suit?"  
  
The batsuit was tucked neatly away in Terry's briefcase which he had surrendered to a concierge before entering the ballroom. As he had reluctantly handed it over he renewed his determination to find a more unobtrusive way of keeping the suit with him at all times. Hard to believe Bruce hadn't come up with something better by now.  
  
"The same way I always do," he grumbled as he straightened his bloody mangled shirt over the pad. "With my legs."  
  
"Let me get it for you. That'll give the bleeding more time to stop."  
  
"Wasted time."  
  
"I knew you were going to say that," she said bending over a bordered lawn edge to wipe his blood from her hands. The garish smear of red on the green grass made her grimace. How much of Terry's blood had been spilled across Gotham since he had donned the costume? Probably no where close to the amount Bruce had shed. "What do you want me to do?"  
  
"Find something to tie these guys up with. That'll be four less threats we'll have to worry about."  
  
"Right." The intent had already crossed Max's mind. Her gaze had been searching around for something she could use to get the job done as he had spoken. It had located a coil of twine and clippers stowed beneath a nearby bench. "Anything else?"  
  
"We don't know what we're up against. Just stay safe for now."  
  
"Safe. While you get to have all the fun." She was shamelessly baiting him, knowing well that what Batman did was anything but fun. Her faint hope was to stall him for another minute and give the wound time to coagulate. "When is it going to be my turn?"  
  
"Never, if it's up to me."  
  
"God," Max rolled her eyes, more angry that she couldn't slow his intent than about his comment. "You sound just like him. Now I understand why the Jokerz call you 'No Fun Boy'."  
  
"Max." Terry grimaced at her familiar nagging desire to be a part of the action. "Save it for Bruce okay? I gotta go." He fastened the final button on his dress coat as he hurried towards the doors and the continued sounds of chaos from within the mansion.  
  
"Their clothes don't match," she blurted out after his retreating figure.   
  
She shouldn't have. She should have just let him go and do his thing. The people inside needed help and Batman could do it. He was here now, when even if the police were alerted to the situation it would take them time to arrive. Time that could save lives. But she doubted he'd have an easy time getting to the suit. It sounded like a madhouse in there and even if the wound wasn't bad, it would slow him down some. And oh--why was it getting harder dealing with Batman's life instead of easier? It wouldn't be so bad if she could work beside him instead of---  
  
Small relief filled her when he stopped and pivoted towards her, irritation in his voice,  
  
"What?"  
  
"Look at the clothing they're wearing. It's mostly a hodgepodge of anything dark. Even the masks are different."  
  
Terry looked down at the scattered figures. "So… you're thinking this might not be a very …organized operation?"  
  
She nodded. "And they're sloppy. I sure don't think--I--could have taken down a professional so easily."  
  
Terry shot an intense gaze at her, a slow, mysterious smile erasing the tension from his face. She had no idea how capable she was. As back-up she was getting closer to Bruce's level of competence. Now, in the field, seeing her using her new training in real life had sent a surge of admiration and pride through him. Preoccupied watching out for her was the reason one of those goons had managed to slice him. She'd berate him mercilessly if she knew so he kept the knowledge to himself, along with his opinions of her abilities.   
  
"Whoa…Max Gibson sounding humble? Guess miracles do happen."  
  
He was gone before she had time to react to the offhand comment. Pushing it to the back of her mind, Max set about tying up the criminals. She had three of them trussed up securely before the fourth returned to consciousness and grabbed her unsuspecting form from behind. Arms trapped against her sides in a powerful bear hug and struggling to breath, Max was unable to resist as he dragged her into the noisy mansion ballroom.   
  
It was chaos inside. Elegantly attired people were yelling and screaming and running around trying to avoid the hooded invaders who were attempting to round them up. Max glimpsed uniformed security guards scattered around the perimeters, confusion clear on their expressions and in the wavering aim of their raised weapons. She caught sight of the Governor and his wife, surrounded by thick numbers of his personal protection, disappearing out one of the ballroom doors. 


	4. Slowing for detail

Despite their bumbling approach, the inept terrorists managed to escape security and were holed up in an inner room of the mansion with certain influential people as hostages. The rich,--Bruce Wayne (who let himself get caught) and a few varied couples from the upper crust of society ; the important-- Commissioner Barbara Gordon and newly elected Mayor Reads and his wife; the attention-getters-- a famous tenor, a popular actress and her date, a best-selling author and a mixed bag of others--mansion employees, a member of the press and varied invited guests that got swept up in all the confusion.   
  
At the moment they were left alone while their captors secured all entries near the room.  
  
Some of the hostages were physically untouched, some were battered, one seriously injured. All were experiencing anxiety of different degrees. Barbara took charge. She had Bruce stay beside and monitor the wounded man's condition. Then with Mayor Reads and Maxine's help she went about to each person to calm them and assess their condition. They were tending to the more traumatized of the group when a loud protesting voice outside the room diverted their attention.   
  
Maxine recognized it as Terry's. His incessant berating was so unlike him that she knew he was putting on an act. Even from the closed off room his words came through clearly,  
  
"This is an outrage. You're not going to get away with this. Gotham City has laws you know and the force to back them up. You can't do this to me! I'm one of Mr. Wayne's main assistants. He doesn't take well to his people being manhandled like this. And believe me--you don't want to get on his bad side. Hey. Be careful. What are you trying to do? Pull my arm out of its socket? This is an outrage!"  
  
The door burst open and she saw him being dragged inside by two of the black-covered intruders, his arms protectively clutching a briefcase tight against his chest. She saw his gaze dart around the room and meet hers for a split second before moving on. The guards loosened their hold on his arms.   
  
The taller of the two guards suddenly snatched the briefcase from his arms before he could react. At least that's what it looked like to the average observer. Max knew Terry's reflexes were better than average and he could easily have put up a fight for the case. This was just more of his act. She also assumed his shout of objection, lunge to grab the case back and letting the guard plant a fist in his midsection was for show as well.   
  
Max winced in empathy as he doubled over without a sound and sank to the floor. She had a strong feeling he didn't have to fake this part. That blow must have irritated the wound no one could see beneath his buttoned dress coat. A glance at Bruce and Barbara revealed expressionless faces as they watched. The other hostages looked uncertain and fearful.  
  
The tall guard studied the briefcase with an amused grin. "So what kind of treasure you got stashed in here?"   
  
Max was one of only a few people who knew what was hidden within that slim briefcase. It opened immediately to the man's touch. A sour look crossed his features as he dumped the contents: a personal computer with the WayneTech emblem embossed on the cover, varied thicknesses of bound papers and some single sheets that followed in a gentle float, a neatly folded white dress shirt, a pair of black socks, two comic books and a package of beef jerky. The guard shook the case, waiting for more to fall out. He turned it around to peer inside closely then tossed it atop Terry with a disgusted snort.   
  
He gestured for his fellow guard to leave. Stepping over the fallen Terry towards the door he paused to pick up the jerky. He did a double take at the comics, grinned and grabbed one, "Hee, hee. Batman. I used to read him a lot when I was a kid."   
  
The other guard growled and slapped the book from his hand. "Come on."  
  
The firm thud of the door closing sounded loud in the silent room. Terry stirred from his curled position as Max hurried to his side.  
  
"Uh… Glad he didn't take it. Didn't have a chance to read that one yet."  
  
"Lucky you." Max muttered patiently. "I'm assuming you got sidetracked and this isn't part of your plan?"  
  
"Barely made it to the case." He had kept getting side-tracked directing panicky patrons to escape routes. "Couldn't get away to make the change."  
  
"Too bad. Now let me check that wound."  
  
He blocked her reaching hand and rose gingerly, favoring the sore midsection. "It's okay."  
  
As she helped him up, a young buxom woman suddenly appeared at Terry's other side to help.   
  
Terry's eyes were immediately drawn to her obvious female assets. At such close proximity they overwhelmed his vision, momentarily letting him forget any pain he had been feeling. His thoughts marveled that a man could, literally, get lost in cleavage like that.   
  
Max was staring too--at the face she had seen many times in movies and in numerous vid-mags. Scarlet Peowne, popular actress and aspiring singer. She wondered why she hadn't noticed the woman sooner. Terry was clearly smitten with her--or--a part of her anyway. What the--? Was that drool coming out of the corner of his mouth?   
  
"Oh my--" The movie star's red lips stretched into a grimace. Her mascara laden lashes whipped across green eyes that looked down at the floor then up at Terry while the honey-smooth voice conveyed real concern, "Did you know you're dripping blood?"  
  
"Huh?" Terry raised his eyes, dumbly aware that it was rude to stare and that he needed to refocus his mind if he wanted to understand what she was saying.   
  
She met his eyes and with veiled amusement and enunciated her words slowly, "You're bleeding Mr. McGinnis."  
  
Hey, she knew his name. "Oh, that's… it's nothing really." How did she make her mouth move like that? Never knew lips could look so--sexy. "And, ah…I don't think we've met, but, ah…you can call me Terry."  
  
Max rolled her eyes and bit her tongue to keep from laughing at Terry's schoolboy reaction to the woman. She'd thought after all his experiences in the last couple years that he'd have developed better control to this type of reaction. After all, Scarlet Peowne was not the first voluptuous woman he'd ever interacted with. It was probably just the wound making him light-headed and not thinking clearly.  
  
Suddenly the room door opened again. In walked the two guards who were now, respectfully, flanking a third man. The leader was middle-aged, moderate height and of a solid build. His eyes were bloodshot and the bristle of a three day old beard dotted his jowly face. He halted in front of the group.   
  
"My name is Wallace Darven. People who know me, call me Pig. I want all of you to understand that if you cooperate by keeping quiet and staying in this room none of you will get hurt…unless I don't get my demands filled. Then some of you may have to die."  
  
Mayor Reads came forward to meet the assumed mastermind of this group of ill-begotten terrorists. "What is the meaning of all this Mr. Darven?"  
  
"I already explained my beef to the media outside. It's all recorded so you can watch it like everyone else on the news."  
  
"So all this unnecessary violence is a protest of some sort?"  
  
"It's one way of getting attention, yeah."  
  
"If you're serious about what you just told us then you should know there's one person here who needs medical help." Reads gestured to one side of the room where Bruce sat beside the blanketed form.  
  
Pig Darven walked over and stared down at the suffering man who squirmed and moaned softly from the pain he was in. "Oh yeah, I see what you mean. That's too bad."  
  
Pig turned away and headed towards the door.   
  
"This man needs professional medical assistance," Bruce spoke up. "Now." The crisp authority in his calm voice demanding enough to not only make the man stop in his tracks, but had everyone else in the room staring at the--until now--unassuming elderly man.  
  
Pivoting on his heel, Darven stared at Bruce without malice.  
  
"I hear you mister rich man. He'll get help, but not until I get a little satisfaction that my own problem is being handled."  
  
Barbara moved to stand beside the Mayor, "He'll die without immediate help and you'll be adding murder to your growing list of crimes."  
  
Pig offed her words with a disgusted wave of his hand, "When my business was dying who helped me? Huh? When I wrote letters and made phone calls who heard my plea for help and answered? When my life's work was being taken from me little by little each year who in this lousy city cared?"  
  
"What type of business were you in?" Reads asked.  
  
He puffed out his chest in pride, "I was the owner of a fine restaurant on the east side--" Then he sagged in defeat. "Until all your stink'in city taxes and laws finally wiped out the last of my profits. Now I don't own nothing. Not even a roof over me and my family's heads."  
  
Sympathy hung in Reads reply, "I'm sorry for your loss Mr. Darven, but what you've done here will not help solve your problems. End this now and I'll make sure the authorities will go as easy as possible on you. I'm sure Commissioner Gordon will back me on this."  
  
Barbara nodded, "I'll do everything in my power to insure you receive fair and impartial treatment."  
  
Clearly unimpressed, Darven let out a disgusted noise before he and his men left the room.

* * *

A numbed drowsiness settled over the occupants. All found relatively comfortable positions and tried to sleep.   
  
A soft sound woke Maxine from her light doze. Her gaze searched the quiet room and saw a shadowed figure moving along the north wall. Squinting, she identified it as Terry and watched him slip soundlessly into the small dressing room, briefcase in hand.   
  
She rose quickly to follow remembering Bruce's suggestion to keep an eye on Terry because he'd probably try putting the suit on despite a direct order not to do it. The dynamics of the suit's strength enhancement naturally increased stress on the wearer's body and Terry's was already weakened by the wound which stopped bleeding only if he laid completely still.  
  
Max parted the bulky curtain to see him leaning heavily over the case that was set on the countertop. His head came up sharply at sight of her. She frowned and murmured,  
  
"You're not going to do what I think you're going to do--are you?"  
  
His expression indicated annoyance before he pressed fingertips against a recessed spot on the case. A hidden tray magically popped out with the batsuit tucked inside. Wearily Terry pulled it out and the tray vanished from sight. Looking expectantly at Max he said,  
  
"I'd like a little privacy if you don't mind." When she didn't move and a stern look appeared on her face he waggled a brow and added suggestively, "Unless you really want to watch."   
  
Max wondered who he was trying to kid. His voice lacked strength and his complexion was ghostly pale in the dim light. She remained standing at the curtained entrance, hands on hips, legs planted wide and spoke her amused challenge softly so as not to attract attention. They didn't need an audience.  
  
"I think I will. And if you can get it on in your usual amount of time without wincing I'll gladly move aside."  
  
"Come on Max," his protest was almost a sigh and his head drooped as if talking was a major effort. "I can't just lay there while somebody else dies."  
  
"Nobody else is going to die. Bruce and Barbara have a plan."   
  
Well, it wasn't really much of a plan. Just Bruce saying these thugs were idiots and Barbara agreeing and adding the fact that that mentality made them unpredictable and dangerous. They also both agreed that Max was the healthiest and most capable of hostages present and with the right plan could manage to help the situation somehow.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me before?"  
  
"Because you're not going to be a part of it."  
  
Terry studied her, his thoughts racing to a logical conclusion, "I imagine you're going to have a starring role in this plan?"  
  
Max's expression became mutinous at his voiced skeptisim, "Maybe."  
  
He continued to eye her a moment longer then gave his head a dismissive shake. "Our chances are better doing it my way," he scoffed bluntly and began preperation to don the suit. Max's next solemn words stopped him cold.  
  
"I thought you had faith in me."  
  
Terry closed his eyes and leaned over the case, "I don't want to waste energy arguing this with you Max."  
  
"Fine," she murmured, immediately relaxing her stance. No matter how hurt she was by his attitude, laying a guilt trip on him was not going to help anything. "Do it the way you want."  
  
He straightened, ignoring pain the movement triggered, and turned an apologetic face to her, "I do believe in your abilities, but this situation calls for experience."  
  
"And you don't think the original Batman and Batgirl are loaded with it?" Her dark eyes flashed anger, but her voice remained soft. "This is their plan--not mine. They think I can do it."  
  
"I just--"   
  
Recalling how reluctant Bruce had been to involve Max in the past, Terry considered this plan, whatever it was, could only be a desperate measure. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he wasn't thinking straight right now. Maybe he really didn't have faith in her, but one dreaded thought he couldn't escape.  
  
"I don't want you to get hurt."   
  
'Killed' was the word he was thinking. He had adjusted to her in the back-up role. A much more practical and safer place for her than fighting at Batman's side. The years in action had finally convinced him that Bruce was right. It was dangerous enough keeping his own hide out of the proverbial fire. Constantly worrying about a partner would negate his own effectiveness. The few times she had gotten in on the action for one reason or another had reinforced the belief.   
  
He and Max had debated the point many times. Bruce never joined in anymore since Terry had come completely over to his side. Max always remained calm while pointing out the advantages of having someone (with the proper training) watching his back while out in the 'field'. He couldn't refute her logic, but he could argue just as logically why she would always be more valuable at her position in the cave. And now he was supposed to be okay with her taking on a bunch of armed loonies all alone? Not while he was…able… to…  
  
Sudden weakness made his limbs tremble. His hearing began to ring and perhipheral vision darkened. He felt himself falling. Vague awareness came of slim muscular arms wrapping around him and soft breasts pressed against his back. He couldn't suppress a moan of frustration at getting Max in these compromising positions and not being able to do anything about them. His nostrils flared and filled with her pleasant scent even as consciousness left him.  
  
Max grunted as she struggled to ease Terry's descent to the floor. The landing was awkward, but quiet. Her legs were now straddling his limp form, his head cushioned between her breasts. Funny how his grip had remained tight on the suit, bringing it down with him as he fainted. If anyone walked in on them now, there'd be an awful lot of explaining to do.   
  
As if her thought was a premonition, a dark figure suddenly drew the curtain aside and filled the doorway. Eyes wide, Max held her breath until dim lighting revealed a familiar face…and released it silently as the Commissioner moved into the little room.   
  
"Guess we should have tied him up," Barbara remarked, vexation twisting her lips.  
  
"Yeah, it might have slowed him down some."  
  
Terry stirred and let out a weak groan, "Max?" His head moved slightly where it nestled against Max's breast.  
  
"Easy Terr. Just rest for a minute."  
  
"Hmmm…" Eyes unopened, he burrowed the side of his face deeper into it's resting place, a drowsy grin of pleasure appearing. "'kay. If you say so."  
  
Max could feel her face heating at the sensation Terry's 'innocent' actions were triggering in her body. Knowing that Barbara couldn't possibly know what she was thinking or feeling, she was still embarrassed. A guilty glance up showed the much older woman wore an expression of patient amusement.  
  
"I was young once you know." Barb smiled and lowered herself, hands reaching out to examine Terry's wound. The makeshift bandages were soaked through. Lifting them slightly to peek beneath allowed fresh blood to flow. She frowned and gently pressed the pads back into place. "He's got to stop moving around. Bruce suggested we pull a tranquilizer dart from the utility belt and use it on him if we have to."  
  
Max nodded enthusiastically to the idea, "Good one." A sudden thought occurred to her, "Hey, why couldn't we use something like that on the guards?"  
  
Barbara's brow furrowed as she considered it. "We'd have to get close enough to jab it in by hand. It might work if there was only one guard, but getting them both at the same time… I don't know."  
  
"I'm sure we can come up with some kind of distraction. Draw them both into the middle of the room somehow, hold their attention while one of us drifts around behind so we can attack them together. Wait a minute-- Why didn't we think of this before? There are other things we could use from the belt. Gas pellets, the detachable aerosol sprays and--"  
  
"And how will we explain away all those little gadgets after the fact?"  
  
"I don't know. Is that important when so many lives are at stake?"  
  
Looking pained, Barbara released an audible sigh, "Let me run it by Bruce. In the meantime, hide the suit and do whatever you have to too keep him quiet. If we're going to make a move, we need to do it soon."   
  
Max nodded as the Commissioner slipped soundlessly from the room. She turned her attention to Terry and reached for the suit still clutched in his hand. Tranquilizing him was the best option at the moment and it would be a good opportunity to find out how much pressure it would take to get the dart to penetrate by hand instead of the way it was usually propelled with the suit's mechanisms.  
  
She tugged to pull the suit towards her, but met resistance. Terry was awake and hanging on tight to it. When he began to sit up Max clamped two arms around his shoulders and pulled him back against her. "Don't move."  
  
"You're not drugging me," he declared feebly, undecided whether he should be angry about her misguided worry or happy that he was still comfortably close to her.  
  
"I won't if you agree to stop moving around."   
  
His reply was slow in coming, "Okay." He'd stay still--for now.  
  
Max made a noise of disbelief and slid herself out from behind him. Obediently he stayed where he was laying, watching her warily as she knelt at his side and stared down at him with the air of a queen lording it over her lowliest subject.  
  
"Promise," she commanded.   
  
He frowned. She was acting strange and he didn't like it, but he didn't have strength at the moment to get up and prove to her he didn't need coddling. His reply was sullen, "I promise."  
  
"I don't believe you," she said after studying him through suspicious eyes. "Swear it on your father's memory."  
  
"Max--" he husked in exasperation. She was really getting annoying.  
  
"Swear it!" she murmured fiercely into his surprised face. "Or you're going to feel what it's like getting jabbed by one of your own darts."  
  
"Okay, okay," Terry held up a hand in entreaty and flattened himself tighter to the floor wanting to escape her uncharacteristic vehemence. "What is with you anyway?"  
  
"You and your stupidity," she snapped the hushed rebuke. "Haven't you figured it out yet?"  
  
"Figured what?  
  
"That you are--not--invincible."  
  
His confused expression evolved slowly into a warm grin, "Aww…Max. You really do care about m--"  
  
"Shut up," she hissed. "And if you move and start bleeding again, I'm going to kill you myself."  
  
Chagrined into complete silence, Terry watched with furtive eyes as she stood and left the room. A wound like this would never have stopped Bruce way back when. He had no intentions of letting it stop him either--well, not any more than it already had. Tucking the suit beneath him to hide it, Terry waited for the right time to resume his alter ego. 


	5. This is a plan?

Hey Kim, JuhFreak and baby-bulma! Thanks for the feedback! And Kim--I hope you weren't expecting too much. I'm pretty lousy at action parts so the 'plan' probably isn't as good as what you could imagine. Hope you enjoy it anyway:) Also, this update is short because the final section of the story isn't quite finished.

* * *

  
  
Sketchy plans were finalized.  
  
Max had a quiet aside with Bruce who went over possible scenarios of what she could expect to deal with. He figured there were six guards plus Darven left and that they, for comforts sake, would most likely have stayed in pairs and be scattered haphazardly anywhere outside this room. He stressed again that their ignorance and the arrogant blind luck that let them get this far made them dangerous because they were unpredictable. For this reason, despite his vast experience, he couldn't give her specific instructions.  
  
He did give her a smattering of eye-opening advice that she could use and lastly suggested she take along the supply of gas pellets from the suit and use them as a distraction so she could get close enough to take her opponents out easily. Nodding agreement she rose to fulfill the task. Bruce's hand on her arm made her sit back down. The commanding intensity of blue eyes in the wizened face grabbed and held her complete attention.  
  
"I've seen you working out with Terry," he said, his gravelly voice softened for her ears only. His measured words were instructional, not harsh. "Your moves are choppy. They're choppy because you hesitate. You hesitate because you're afraid. Don't let that happen this time Max. A lot of lives are depending on you to be strong and sure of yourself. If you don't trust yourself to succeed--it won't happen. And I know you have what it takes to succeed."  
  
Max blinked after a stunned moment. "Yes sir," she murmured.   
  
He had never spoken to her like that. This someone who she respected above anyone she had ever known had just told her he believed she was as capable as she wanted to be and just needed to be reminded of it. At least that's how she interpreted it. But what did he mean--she was afraid?

* * *

Knowing that Terry would make the task difficult, Barbara went along with Max to get the pellets from the utility belt. The older woman blocked the entrance to keep prying eyes away while Max knelt beside an alert and tensed Terry. He had overheard some of what they were planning and was not happy about it.   
  
"We need a few things from the suit," she said patiently, steeling herself for the expected refusal. "Hand it over please."  
  
"You're crazy," he muttered to Max, then looked up at Barbara. "I can't believe you're going to let her do this."  
  
Barbara adjusted her glasses and peered down at him with a long-suffering look, "The longer this situation continues, the poorer the outcome. I believe she has a very good chance of succeeding."  
  
"And what if she doesn't?" He began to elbow himself up, but Max pushed him back easily.  
  
"Lay still," she ordered and reached over to pull the suit from beneath him. He clamped a hand on it to halt it, his expression determined.  
  
"I'm okay Max. Let me do this."  
  
"No you're not. And this time it's my turn." Her dark eyes pleaded with him to understand. She wanted to prove to herself she could do this.   
  
A span of seconds passed before Terry's body relaxed, his grip releasing the suit. He frowned, saying gruffly, "Better use a soft touch with the Flash/Bang pellets. They trigger a lot easier than the others."  
  
"I will," Max grinned and finished pulling the suit to her.   
  
Since it was part of her back-up duties to help keep the batsuit's arsenal stocked, she was deft at emptying the compartments containing the different pellets and the darts. She stuffed them all into the small hand-bag Barbara had given her to use and tied it around her waist. Mentally geared for the task ahead and wanting to move on to it while she had the courage, Max rose quickly to go. Sharply spoken words from Terry made her stop and turn.  
  
"Aren't you forgetting something?" He held up a squared clip he had pulled from the utility belt. "Gas mask. You're going to need it."  
  
She took it from his outstretched hand, "Thanks. I should have thought of that."  
  
"Yeah, you should have," he chided.  
  
Surprised by his attitude, Max waited for him to soften the reproach with a teasing grin. Instead he heaped on more negative.  
  
"Hit those guys hard enough the first time Max then you won't have to hit them again. You know what I mean," he smirked. "Don't go using those girly hits you use on me when we're sparring. They're not going to get you very far."  
  
Again she waited for a sign that she shouldn't take his criticisms seriously, but none came. Pushing back hurt she shrugged indifference, "I'll see what I can do about that."   
  
Not wanting to hear any more snide comments he might want to make she left the little room, brushing roughly against Barbara in her hurry to escape. Damn men! She'd never understand them. First Bruce--the last person she expected to get encouragement from--blows her away with an admission of faith in her abilities . Then Terry--the one person in the world she thought would always be on her side--manages to shatter her ego right when she needed it the most. To hell with them both! She had a job to do.   
  
Regaining her balance, Barbara gazed critically down at Terry, "What was that for?"  
  
He replied looking suddenly miserable, "She fights better when she's angry."

* * *

Despite Scarlet and two other male hostage's insistence that they could help, it was decided Max would go out alone to deal with the criminals outside the room. Barbara, using her professional manner and authority as police commissioner, convinced them all that Max had some experience with this type of danger and would work better on her own.   
  
When everything was ready the adventure began with an award-winning performance by Scarlet that lured the two outside guards into the room and held them in rapt attention while Barbara and Max moved in close. They subdued both men simultaneously with the fast-acting sleeping darts, afterwards having to explain to the curious hostages that they were items used by the police which Barbara happened to have with her.   
  
With quiet wishes of good luck and encouragement from the other hostages ringing in her ears Max slipped stealthily from the room.  
  
Now twenty minutes later, here she was, staring open-mouthed at the barrel of the weapon pointed in her face, her thoughts of accomplishment suddenly turned to defeat.   
  
She'd come so far! And it hadn't been easy. Her heart was pounding and her chest heaving from recent exertions. Her body throbbed with all the hits it had taken and blows given. Her eyes and throat burned from the gas they were exposed to when her mask had been knocked off in one fight.   
  
After all that she was left facing the incensed head honcho, Piggy Darven, himself. She didn't know if he was made of tougher stuff than his helpers or if the emotion that fired this revenge of his gave him abnormal strength? Hitting him with everything she used on the others didn't stop him. It only made him angrier.  
  
Damn! After everything she had suffered through it would have been all right and fair to see a happy ending here. It had finally been her turn to play hero and she was going to blow it!  
  
Max fought tears of frustration.  
  
Stay calm girl. No time for self-pity or panic. Think. Think. That's what you're best at remember? Too bad the battered and snarling Pig Darven wasn't going to give her the time. His gun hand was up and aimed in her direction and unfortunately the weapon was charged and ready to fire.   
  
A sudden insight came as to what Bruce meant about her being afraid. She should have hit Darven harder and not have worried about causing him permanent damage. This was the real thing. Not a sparring lesson!   
  
Now she was going to die and all of Bruce and Terry's beliefs that she couldn't handle this type of role would be true .  
  
No!   
  
No way was she going to give those two the satisfaction of being right about her! She'd never be able to live it down. Especially if she was dead.  
  
Max let out a snort of amusement at her own mocking humor. Suddenly she wasn't scared anymore, a grim, devil-may-care attitude filling her with an empowering strength.   
  
The wild shift of emotion had an impact on her thoughts as well. Her eyes took in the scene with new sight and a slew of hidden options' besides leaping out of his line of fire, became abruptly clear. One practically shouted at her. That gigantic crystal chandelier hanging motionless twenty feet directly over the baddy's head was ripe for the picking. It could be a satisfying slapstick moment. Now if only she had brought along one of those handy batarangs….   
  
She gaped in silent surprise as one of the black, bat shaped devices hurtled out of thin air from the opposite side of the room. A barely audible whirring sound trailed its path upwards to where it neatly sliced the chandelier's connection to the ceiling.   
  
As if happening in slow motion, Max watched her adversary's expression, reflecting his superior position, gradually change to horror. The sudden absence of light from the severed chandelier made him glance up. He raised his gun arm to cover his face while the huge light fixture fell soundlessly on his head, its weight crumpling his body to the floor. The shrill tingling of hundreds of crystal ornaments faded away quickly to silence.  
  
Max jolted herself into action, hurrying to fetch the weapon that had clattered away from the lax hand. She cast her gaze around furtively, wondering who would respond to all the noise and where the cloaked Batman was now. An unexpected voice from behind made Max gasp and jump even though a split second later she had recognized it. She turned in time to see Batman's black-covered form appear out of empty space.   
  
"Sorry," he said. "You all right?"  
  
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, the agitated waving of her gun hand making him duck one way then the other to stay out of her line of fire.  
  
"I think that's obvious." Batman's arm snaked out suddenly to grab the roving gun and cautiously pull it from her unresisting hand. He deactivated it and tossed it aside.  
  
"I had things under control." Max flared, hands settling on hips. "I didn't need your help."  
  
"Oh, my mistake." Batman's deep tone dripped with sarcasm. "I didn't know you were fulfilling a death wish."  
  
"I don't ha--" Max forgot her anger, eyes going wide in surprise.   
  
"Hey," The sick expression on her face kicked Batman's worry up a notch. "You okay?"  
  
"Don't look now, but…" Max swallowed, her gaze fixed behind him. "An old friend of yours has decided to join the party."  
  
"Hey maaaan!"   
  
Terry froze at the familiar voice shouting out across the disarrayed ballroom. 'God, please. Let it not be him. Not now.'   
  
"Batman old buddy! Still working on the side of bogus bureaucratic authority?"   
  
Slowly, Batman turned to see the heavily muscled and armed psycho known as Mad Stan standing near the entrance. He had a broad grin on his big square face and a loaded bazooka cradled lovingly in his arms. 


	6. Uh, Oh!

"Batman old buddy! Still working on the side of bogus bureaucratic authority?"   
  
Slowly, Batman turned to see the heavily muscled and armed psycho known as Mad Stan standing near the entrance. He had a broad grin on his big square face and a loaded bazooka cradled lovingly in his arms.   
  
"That's right Stan." He carefully moved away from Max, wanting her out of the fight that was sure to come. "You oughta reconsider joining this side of the law. Maybe then we could put aside all this hostility and become friends."  
  
"Har! Har!" Stan's laugh boomed through the room making any non-deaf presence wince in discomfort. He walked towards the center of the room, closer to the retreating Batman. "You know you can be real funny sometimes Batman."  
  
"Yeah, I'm downright hilarious if I try." There was nothing funny about Stan. He was a flamboyant nutcase with a quasi noble cause and enough knowledge of explosives and the like to make him very dangerous. So what had drawn him here? "You related to Mr. Darven? Is that why we get to be honored by your presence?"  
  
"Naw, but we do have something in common. I was watch'in the news and after seeing what was going on, I figured I should help out. You know that old saying--any enemy of my enemy is my friend? Well here I am, just help'in a friend deal with a bunch of laws that were meant to crush the spirit of middle-class America. So unfair." He smiled and with a swift movement that belied his bulk; lifted, aimed and fired his weapon in Batman's direction.  
  
Batman ignited the suit's boot-jets, cursing his body's sluggish reaction time. The blast missed him, but its' repercussions sent him tumbling out of control into one of the ballroom support columns. Impact toppled the column and its surrounding attachments. As the last of the wood and plaster rained down, Batman rose up from the heaped shambles that had been part of the ballroom ceiling.   
  
A wild hope that he could talk Stan out of fighting was foremost in his mind. The weakness he was feeling would tip a direct confrontation decidedly in Stan's favor . Holding his arms out in a gesture of surrender, Batman tried to reason.  
  
"I'm not your enemy Stan. I'm here to help you. To keep you from making a big mistake."  
  
"You're the one who made the mistake Batman. Just by being here. Now I'm gonna have to kill you."  
  
Stan emphasized his words with another haphazard firing of his weapon. With something so powerful he didn't need to be very accurate.  
  
Batman disappeared again under a barrage of ballroom construction. He emerged from the settling dust and debris and managed a series of huge leaps around the room as the continuous blast from Stan's weapon tracked his movements.   
  
A second slower than he should have been and Batman was once more buried, this particular pile blocking the main ballroom entrance. Thankful for the short respite for his flagging body, Terry realized he couldn't keep doing this. The warmth of blood trickling inside the suit reminded him he was running out of time. He had to get up-close and personal with Stan. He needed to get the lunatic into a position where he couldn't fire any of his weapons for fear of harming himself and then stop him permanently.   
  
Despite knowing he should get out there and fight, Batman could not get his exhausted body to move. He rested inside a cocoon of plaster, plastics, wood and metal waiting for a surge of energy to come. A dull thought crossed his mind that Stan might decide to blast this particular pile to smithereens and put him out of his misery.   
  
Nah. Stan was too fond of dramatics. He'd want to actually _see_ Batman's body pieces being spattered across the room before feeling satisfied.   
  
So all he had to do was just stay here until Stan uncovered him then move like a 'bat out of hell' at the right moment. That's a lousy plan McGinnis. Let's hope it's not your last. Wonder if Max made it out of here okay. She'd probably have a better chance at handling Stan than he had so far. Yeah. All she had to do was give Stan that-- 'You're a disgusting piece of dirt!'--stare that she used on him and the big, bad doofus would crumble to the ground in surrender. Terry's insides tickled with humor at the thought and what Max would do to him if she knew what he was thinking right now. And somehow that emotion drew out a new reserve of energy. Enough that he was ready when he heard Stan coming closer.  
  
Stan's approach was marked by heavy crunching footsteps and his deep voice mocking in a sing-song manner.  
  
"Come out, come out where ever you are Batman. I know you're under there somewhere."  
  
Impatient with waiting and irritated that Stan was calling the shots, Batman ignited his boot-jets and shot out of the pile in Stan's direction. A minor shift in his flight pattern and Batman was barreling straight into his surprised antagonist. He hit Stan hard and tore the bazooka out of his grip as the man fell backwards.  
  
Landing a few feet beyond the prone figure, he bent the weapon in a few different directions with his hands and sent it skidding across the ballroom floor far away from its owner. Knowing Stan still had plenty of armament on him to resume his 'fun', Batman hurriedly returned to the man who was already climbing to his feet.  
  
Quickly he grabbed Stan's arms and locked them behind his back, strong enough that the huge man was growling loud in discomfort, his thick muscled arms and neck bulging with the effort to break free.   
  
With little strength left to continue this fight, Terry made a decision. He had to do it before he passed out--before Stan could finish what Piggy had started. It was a move that could have been done with neatness and precision considering the strength and control the suit gave him. But desperation and his own bodily weakness made it a sloppy one. All he could do was pull on Stan's limbs until….

* * *

Crouched far out of the way of the action, Max winced and covered her ears every time Stan fired his weapon. He really had Batman hopping to avoid a direct hit. It was bad enough that he kept disappearing beneath falling debris, but each time it took him longer to rise up out of the rubble. Losing so much blood had taken a huge toll on his energy level. As usual, she was worried about him and though she thought determinedly for a way she could help, nothing came to mind.  
  
He had just disappeared again beneath a storm of debris and she waited, every muscle tensed, for him to reappear. Her fingernails gouged furrows into her palms and her jaw ached from gritted teeth before he suddenly burst into sight. The brightness of the suit's flaring jets left a trail as Batman slammed into Stan and sent him flying backwards.  
  
She heard the scream of tortured metal as Batman stood aside to twist the bazooka into a pretzel shape and then tossed it away. A second later he was hauling Stan up and yanking the big man's arms behind his back.  
  
Max heard a loud snap. She heard Stan's sharp howl of pain and then another cracking sound. Again Stan cried out and suddenly went limp. Batman let him fall to the ground. The big man slumped over, his arms hanging at odd angles at his sides. He was moaning and rocking slightly from side to side.   
  
What happened? Curiosity had her searching gaze narrowing. She saw blood flowing from the soft flesh of Stan's upper arms and from there caught sight of splintered bone ends of white protruding. Aghast, Max realized Batman had deliberately broken both of Stan's arms. Her stomach churned violently, bile rising in her throat. She took two staggering steps in the opposite direction and heaved all over a pile of garbage.  
  
Wiping at her mouth she looked up to see Batman had the barely conscious human bound and was walking towards her. She could hear his labored breathing as he got closer. He spoke out breathless, concerned,  
  
"Max?"  
  
"I'm okay. How about you?"  
  
"There's nothing wrong with me that…" he paused to take in a deep breath. "…a minor blood transfusion couldn't fix."  
  
She watched him pull the cowl part way off his face, noting the moisture that spotted his paled forehead and cheeks. Maybe now wasn't the time to discuss how shocked she was, but the feeling was too strong to hold in. She had to say it.  
  
"I can't believe you did that."  
  
"Wha…" Looking confused for a moment he followed her line of sight. "Him?"  
  
Max nodded, her big eyes solemn on him. "That's not your--style."  
  
"My style--" Terry said the word with distaste. "Is to get the job done. Whatever it takes. I broke his arms. Big deal. There were worse things I could have done to stop him without killing him. And he had to be stopped Max, you know that right?"  
  
"Yes, of course I do. I just thought that--"  
  
"And what do you mean it's not my style? There are plenty of times I've gotten rough with someone who was asking for it. You've seen it often enough through the vidlink. Why is it bothering you now?"   
  
"I don't know," she shrugged and turned away from him, smoothing thick hair from her forehead, "I guess seeing it in real life makes it more…real."  
  
Terry chuckled, "That's gotta be one of the dumbest things I ever heard you say."  
  
Max whirled, a mixture of anger and shame on her face, "Go ahead and keep laughing, especially when I tell you that I don't think I could have done what you did if…" She took a steadying breath, as if what she had to say was the hardest thing she had ever done. "If I had been in your place."  
  
His expression now as serious as her own, Terry closed his eyes and bowed his partially cowled head, "If it makes you feel better to know--" his face tilted up slightly, dark brows creased. "I didn't enjoy doing it."  
  
"Not really." Her mouth twisted in chagrin. "So…how do you feel knowing you were right about me?"  
  
"Nope. I was wrong. You handled yourself real good Max. I was impressed."   
  
At least until she got to Darven and he had presented more of a challenge than the others. Like she just admitted--she couldn't make herself hurt him enough to completely stop him. Witnessing that and hearing her surprising admission left him feeling disappointed. Maybe, deep down, he really had thought she'd be ready to fight alongside him someday. Why the hell did Bruce have to be right so often?  
  
"You were?" Her face brightened in delight.  
  
Terry grinned and nodded then watched her happy expression slowly fade before she said,  
  
"How did…?" Her eyes narrowed, mouth stretched into a tight line. "You were watching me?"  
  
"Ah…" Feeling suddenly pensive at how his generous praise had set him up for disaster, Terry took a subtle step away from her as her arms crossed themselves rigidly beneath her breasts. "Maybe…just a little."  
  
"For how long?"  
  
"Ah…not long," Terry shook his head for emphasis, regretting it as the scenery and Max started dipping and twisting around him. Slapping a hand across his eyes and tried not to sway. He felt steadying hands on his shoulders and Max's silky voice scolding,  
  
"Don't even think about passing out here. The police will be swarming the place any second."  
  
"Understood, but I think that… blood transfusion… would be real helpful right now."   
  
His legs trembled from the effort of standing, his entire body feeling about as strong as a column of jelly. He let himself lean against Max, dimly aware she was struggling to keep them both standing. Ever so slowly they sank to the floor. Awareness faded for awhile until he heard Max calling his name and jiggling his shoulders to get his attention. Her voice was anxious and insistent.  
  
"This is really lousy timing. You have to wake up Terry. Now. Come on. You can do it. Wake up!"  
  
He jerked his head from her shoulder as the shout reverberated in his ear. "Okay--I'm up--I'm up." Then he let it drift gradually back to her shoulder and mumbled, "Just… give me another minute."  
  
"Terr?"  
  
"Hmm?" He felt like he was floating and Max's voice was coming from far away.   
  
"I know you've sort of fallen for me, but this is getting ridiculous."  
  
"I can't help myself," he murmured, liking how amused she sounded. Maybe she was in the right mood for him to wheedle a little more sympathy from her. Besides, he could use some since he was feeling mighty wasted right now. "Who better to catch me when I'm passing out… than my Back-up? It must be… in the job description somewhere."  
  
"I don't recall any job description for this position."  
  
"Hmm." Max's shoulder was so comfortable. He could stay here for hours. If only she wasn't so dead set against furthering their relationship. He spoke wistfully, "You know… you could take advantage of me when I'm so… vulnerable like this and there's not a thing I could do about it. I admire your… self-control."  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Not really," he replied, encouraged by the amused lilt in her tone. "I wouldn't mind if…you had your way with me."  
  
He felt her chest move as she sighed and relaxed.  
  
Could this be a turning point for them? Anticipation triggered a slow surge of adrenaline and a return of strength to his body. He let one arm work it's way around her back, the hand making small languid motions between the plain of her shoulder blades.  
  
"Terr?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I may not be able to break one of Stan's arms, but I doubt I'd have a problem breaking one of yours."  
  
He halted his roving hand and gradually lifted his head from her shoulder uttering a disappointed mutter, "Understood."  
  
"Good. Do you feel strong enough to move now? Sounds like the police are just outside the room."  
  
Muffled shouts and the clatter of people clearing an opening into the barricaded ballroom became steadily louder.   
  
Terry was up and moving away from her quickly enough that she was not compelled to help him. He stopped to look at her for a moment, his head cocked in a contemplative manner and said,  
  
"You realize--this is not how I thought the evening would go."  
  
Max smiled wryly, "Yeah, I think I have a good idea how you wanted it to end. And you know it never would have happened."  
  
Terry grinned tiredly, but there was mischief in his eyes. "We'll have to try it again before I'll admit to that," he replied before fitting the cowl over his face.   
  
"Not in this lifetime," she countered strongly then softened her tone. "You going to be o--"  
  
The sound of doors crashing open diverted Max's attention from Terry. She saw a stream of uniformed police flow through the door and take up their trained positions. A worried glance at Batman revealed that he was no where in sight. Breathing a sigh of relief she raised her hands to show she was not a threat and waited for the police to approach.   
  
She felt a small erg of triumph grow inside. This little adventure was over and despite the seriousness of many aspects of it she could still claim a modicum of success in her part of the story. If nothing else came of it she could now clearly admit to herself that she was not cut out for the aggressive approach she would need to become a vigilante like Batman. Perhaps being his back-up was enough for her after all.   
  
Still…if she changed her way of thinking….maybe...The End  
  
_I hope this was somewhat of an entertaining read for you. That was the goal anyway. And you 'guys' have to pat me on the back for completing this. It's only the second story I've finished in my long life of writing for personal pleasure. Thanks so much for reading and letting me know how you felt about it. I feel so honored that you took the time to review. Peace and happiness to all of you!  
  
p.s. concerning writer's block: Hang in there faithful writers and readers! Someday all those nasty blocks will fall before an onslaught of creative imagination and not only will 'Stumbling' be completed, but also "Identity' and 'Beyond Knightfall' and a slew of other great fics we've been patiently waiting to be continued.  
  
Thanks again for the words of encouragement_! 


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